


Bunkbeds

by Iris13



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22036375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iris13/pseuds/Iris13
Summary: “Not tonight, Catra. Sleep in your own bunk,” Adora says with a groan. Her creaky voice is raspy from sleep. She pulls the grey blanket closer to her body, turns over onto her side. Pulling them tight around her body and up to her face. But the blanket won’t protect her. Not here. Not from Catra.The reason Catra slept in Adora’s bunk. Or, how to make your bed according to Horde standards. TENSION. Wrestling. Mostly canon-compliant.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 107





	1. discipline

**Author's Note:**

> The reason Catra slept in Adora’s bunk. She didn’t want to make her bed in the morning. TENSION. Wrestling. Mostly canon-compliant.
> 
> Just wanted to play with this idea. 
> 
> Also since the crew keep saying you imagine the characters anywhere from 18-35 (source: raegeii on tumblr, who is part of the production), and that they are all valid, just to be clear, I wrote/headcanon both Catra and Adora as early-mid 20s in this fic and otherwise. They are both adults both in canon and in this fic.

_O,_

_I’m a lion_

_I’m a queen_

_No one_

_Nothing_

_can confine me_

_Not pain_

_Not even_

_Love_

  
  


***

“You do it like this, see?” Adora says, her voice is annoyingly cheerful as she pulls the grey blanket, tucking it in on itself. She does this sort of thing with ease. The fold appears at that  _ exact angle _ that for some reason is seen as an indicator of good discipline in the Horde. Adora always liked this part of their discipline. Having a neat and tidy bed to sleep on. She never liked wrinkles.

Catra does not have the patience for this.

Her eyes wander, away from the bed. She’s looking at the way Adora’s back looks underneath her horde issue sports bra. Her biceps and back muscles are very defined, and the way her shoulder blades move makes Catra wish she had the genetics to look like that. It’s easier for Adora, she gets twice as strong, twice as big as Catra with the same workout. She also doesn’t have a thin layer of fur covering her whole body. Adora isn’t even the biggest cadet, that would probably be Rogelio, but she is still molded like the perfect soldier. 

Strong, neat and does  _ exactly  _ what she’s told. A good girl. Shadow Weaver’s all time favorite cadet.

Catra wouldn’t ever admit to things like jealousy. But Adora has everything so put together. She can follow these petty orders, actually do them well and worst of all, she gets praised for it. These silly rules that have nothing to do with actual combat. Nothing to do with being able to survive.

_ Stand up straight, do what you’re told, don’t question anything, don’t stand out too much.  _

It takes so little to be seen as undisciplined in the Fright Zone. Any deviation from Shadow Weaver’s standards means you’re trouble,  _ insubordinate _ . Means you deserve being on the receiving end of a shit ton of pain.

This is why she is still in the sleeping barracks, long after everyone else have left for the gym. All alone with her best friend Adora, being taught yet again how to properly make a bed.

All of this feels like a stupid joke.

Sure, all cadets are subject to these rules, but Catra being Shadow Weaver’s least favorite cadet means she’s under extra scrutiny. And lately Shadow Weaver has  _ not  _ liked the way Catra is tidying up her bunk. Or anything Catra does in general. Apparently her bed making skills are not up to Horde standards. Catra scoffs at the thought. Apparently she’s hasn’t been folding in the sheets at the right angle. Like that silly detail would make her a better soldier!

There is no use for bed making when the enemy has their blade against your throat, or when their magic is ripping you apart.

Perfectly tucked linen won’t save you then. 

Adora is such a piece of shit. Always doing everything the way they want, even these small useless things.  Why is it not enough that Catra can fight? That she can run faster than the other cadets? She can  surprise her opponent like no one else. She can take a beating and still get back up to continue the fight. She’s taken down opponents much much bigger than her. She could take down Octavia when she was literally  _ 5 years old! _ But that’s not enough.

In the Fright Zone nothing Catra does seems to be good enough for Shadow Weaver and the others. 

Catra is never enough.

“They won’t get mad at you if you do it this way, Catra,” Adora says softly.

“Wanna bet?” Catra shoots back, her arms folded across her chest. 

She knows she sounds mean, she can’t help it. Adora is acting like Catra has a choice in this. Like she can do  _ anything  _ to change the way Shadow Weaver treats her, like she can actually get anyone on her side. Catra can be accused of being many things, but she’s certainly not stupid. 

These past few days have been rough. 

She’s been disciplined several days in a row for minor things, things Adora, Lonnie or Rogelio would easily get away with. Like walking too fast in the hallways (running), folding her sheets the wrong way (lazy), being even the slightest bit behind schedule (lacking discipline), having messy hair (unhygienic). 

Two days ago, she forgot her belt. She hadn’t even realised that she had ditched it, but Shadow Weaver noticed, and she saw it as an absolutely vital part of her uniform.

Catra is not dumb, she knows why it’s like this. It’s Adora who is not putting 2 and 2 together.

Shadow Weaver hates her, 

Octavia too, with good reason. Probably the rest of the gang if they were pressed to answer truthfully. Catra wouldn’t put it past them anyway.

Her train of thought is stopped by the pillow hitting her in the face.

Adora has ruined the perfectly made bed she just spent so much time on. The blanket is on the floor, the sheet is halfway off the bed. Her smile is so wide, like when she’s about to tackle Catra in the gym. Like this is another a game they can play. It doesn’t feel like a game to Catra. Adora’s smug face makes her stomach twist. Of course Adora is good at this,  _ of course  _ Catra is not. 

“Now you do it,” Adora says.

Catra groans loudly, but she gets off the wall she’s leaning against. She throws the pillow onto the top bunk, her bed, and yanks the sheet completely off. Adora scoffs at her.

“Come on, you can do better than that,” Adora says and pokes Catra at the waist.

“Do I look like I’m finished yet?” Catra snarls back. Adora is really getting on her nerves today.

She pulls the sheet, stretching it so that it covers the bed. She has to retract her claws a little so she won’t tear the worn fabric. She does her best to keep her grip soft. 

How many cadets have slept on this throughout the years? Where are they now?

Are they still around? 

She pushes the ends of the sheet in underneath the thin mattress. The forceful motion wrinkles the sheet and she moves her hand over them to smooth it all down. 

But the wrinkles are stubborn, as soon as she gets rid of one of them, two more pop up somewhere else. She really doesn’t have the patience for this type of work.

In the back of her mind she can hear Shadow Weaver’s voice say,  _ Wrinkles are unfit for a soldier _ . Though she doubts her enemies will care what her bed looks like.

Adora’s muscled arms are suddenly all around Catra, sliding her hands on top of Catra’s arms. Her fingers latch onto Catra’s and then she pulls both Catra’s hands and the sheet that Catra is holding. Her skin feels warm against Catra’s.

“It’s easier if you shake out the wrinkles.”

Adora’s face is right up next to Catra’s, Adora’s breath feels soft against her ear. Catra’s ear twitch involuntarily, hitting Adora on the nose.

“I got it!” Catra groans, pulling the sheet again, trying to wriggle out of Adora’s hold, but Adora is not letting go of her. Her grip is tight. Catra can feel the shape of Adora’s breasts against her back, her hip pressed against her butt. Adora does a quick shake, Catra’s hands have no option but to follow along and stretch out the sheet. 

It does get rid of most of the wrinkles though.

“Now you show me,” she says.

Adora loosens her grip, her hands finally slide off Catra, but she’s still very close. Catra can feel the edge of Adora’s stomach against her butt. Her tail slide involuntarily against her legs.

Catra does the same thing Adora did earlier, shake and stretch the sheet. No wrinkles. She pushes the end in under the mattress. 

“Don’t forget the fold,” Adora says.

You have to fold the edge of the mattress so there’s a small triangle at the ends, if it doesn’t have it then it’s not made according to the Horde standard. Catra knows this. She picks up the corner, folds it, and lifts the mattress to push the sheet in under. 

She reaches for the other corner, and does the same there. Two done, two more to go. She lifts herself up on the top bunk, throwing her torso across the bed, and finish off the top part of the bed. Adora has not moved, Catra can feel her tail hitting Adora in the face. She glances over her shoulder, Adora is watching her closely.

Catra climbs back down, smooths out the final few remaining wrinkles, readjusts the pillow. She takes the blanket and folds it. Puts it on top of everything else. 

It’s done. She’s probably never done her bed this well before. 

Catra turns, and suddenly Adora’s pale face is so close. Those blue eyes feel like they’re endless. Adora is smiling, wide and full of those square teeth. Her lips look chapped, there’s a small cut on her bottom lip. 

“You did it, Catra!” Adora shouts, too excitedly. 

Catra says nothing. She resents this stupid skill. She resents having been taught how to do it, resents Adora for being consistently good at it. Resents it and everything it stands for.

“Let’s hit the gym,” she says finally, and takes Adora’s hand before she can say anything else annoying about this.

***

Catra is late for practice. 

She’s  _ always  _ late. Catra is never where she’s supposed to be when she has to be. Not when it matters.

Somehow, she is either too early or too late. She can’t decide which is worse. The boredom of having to wait makes her skin crawl. But at least then she can hide and try to surprise whoever she’ll meet. It gives her some sense of control. However, as of lately she’s always late. It’s not like she really  _ cares  _ about punctuality, about being a good soldier, but being late does get her into trouble. Means she could be subject to disciplinary action from Shadow Weaver. And it would be easier to not have to deal with  _ that _ . 

Everyone is being a real hassle to her, she’ll definitely get in trouble for this. Worst case scenario, it’s Shadow Weaver who notices she should be somewhere else.

She’ll have to be careful.

She runs her tongue over her teeth, feeling the sharp edge of her fangs.

Catra has become accustomed to physical punishments by now. Knowing that it will come is sometimes just as bad as the actual punishment. But she hides when she can, sometimes accepts it, hoping it will be over quicker that way.

But most of all she’s gotten better at not getting hit.

She’s gotten better at slipping away, moving around unseen. Hiding in the shadows. If they can’t see you it’s harder for them to find reasons to hurt you. Even Shadow Weaver, with all her power, can’t always find her. 

One day she will run this place and get her revenge. She’ll make sure of it, it would mean that all this suffering was worth it. For now, she knows it’s usually better to bite your tongue. To bide your time.

Doesn’t mean she always does so though.

There is a part of her that refuses to submit. Won’t submit to anyone. Not even to Shadow Weaver.

That part of her is less vocal after a few rounds of Shadow Weaver’s  _ disciplinary lessons  _ though.

The metal floors feel colder than usual underneath the soles of her feet. It’s usually hot and humid in this part of the Fright Zone. Some days you can even see droplets form on the windows. Falling down and chasing each other. Like kids.

They must be flushing out the air for some reason. They did that when Kyle dropped that barrel clearly marked “ _ handle with care, poisonous _ ”. It was really annoying to clean up, but it sure was amusing seeing the look on Kyle’s face when he ran away in horror though.

Catra can’t run in these stupid corridors right now. 

A sergeant might stop her and ask why she’s running. Falling behind schedule is never enough of an excuse for running, and then they would definitely discipline her. She’s already plenty late as it is. So she walks calmly but steadily down the plated interiors of the Fright Zone, trying to look uninterested. 

_ Keep it together, Catra, it’s not like it’s the first time you’re late for something.  _

The corridors appear nearly deserted today. She only meets a few other cadets, and they all avoid eye contact. Hurrying away. But no captains, no sergeants, no senior cadets. But she’s still on edge. Waiting for the next case of bad luck to strike. In her chest is the steady beat of her heart, like a drum.

_ Probably not the last time you’ll be late either. _

Catra wonders how much of the battle simulation training she’s missing out on today. If she’s lucky they’re doing some mundane crap she already masters. Like stealth, or even field survival. She’s good at that too. They probably don’t even care about her absence, she won’t be missed. She rarely is. 

Nothing is ever a good excuse to not show up on time. She can practically hear Shadow Weaver’s condescending voice in her mind, lecturing her.

  
‘ _You cannot arrive late to the battlefield, insolent child. You would have missed the battle all together._ _Missing the battle means you’ve lost.’_

Not that Catra’s presence matters. At least not in this place.

Her focus shifts from the hallway to the doors. Her eyes searching for the entrance to their usual battle gym.  _ Not far now. _

She almost runs the last bit of distance.  _ Almost.  _ She could rip the door open and barge in, and hopefully scare the rest of the cadets shitless. But her gut tells her that she should play it cool today, so she opts for the more subtle approach, to slide in unseen. So she enters carefully. Holding her breath as she grabs onto the handle and pulls it, forcing the heavy door open.

The smell of the gymnasium hits her first. 

These halls have a very specific scent. It’s always the same. Like rubber, grease, rusty metal and old sweat. Sometimes burning too, if they’ve gone hard during their sessions, but not today. They make the cadets clean the room regularly as part of their disciplinary training, but the stale smell never quite goes away. Like it has seeped too deep into the walls and floors to leave by now.

The smell will survive longer than they ever will.

The lights are dimmed, with only the hexagons of the floor illuminating the room. The training is still in full swing, The cadets look like they’re doing night combat training.  _ Perfect _ , it gives Catra the upper hand, she is  _ of course _ better than the rest of her team when it comes to sneaking around unseen. Adora is especially bad at night training, she’s too loud and clumsy to not alert their enemy. It’s a wonder Shadow Weaver doesn’t give her more shit about it.

But then again, Adora always got special treatment. Always a  _ soft _ hand. Catra could never survive here if she wasn’t good at sneaking around.

The screeching sound of rubber-sole shoes against the hard floor make her snap back to reality. It’s closely followed by the clinking noise of their equipment. She sees her team, whatever they’re doing, Rogelio and Lonnie. She can’t see Adora or Kyle, but they’re somewhere in here. Catra can  _ hear _ Kyle. His heavy breathing is loud to Catra’s sensitive ears even from across the giant room.  _ It’s like he’s not even trying to keep quiet!  _ It doesn’t look like much. She can probably sneak up to them, do something dramatic like kill the simulated enemy. They won’t be as angry about her delayed arrival then. Hopefully.

Catra can quickly assess the situation from where she is standing on the elevated observation platform. The place where Shadow weaver would be, if she felt like it. Where she would watch and applaud Adora, or torment Catra. But thankfully, Shadow Weaver is not here right now.

Lonnie and Rogelio look like they’re waiting, all huddled behind a simulated rock, holding onto their dummy weapons. Kyle and Adora are probably trying to round up the enemy so they can attack it from all sides. Catra is ready. She can easily launch an attack from above. With her night vision and Kyle’s heavy breathing she can pinpoint the exact moment when to go in for the kill. She’s done this before. She’s got this.

All she has to do is bide her time.   
_ I get to be the hero today. _

The enemy is a big boy today. The projection is an enormous bug like  _ thing _ . With a smooth shell along its back, and a small head with bulging black eyes. It’s legs are angular, dragging the huge body forward at a slow but steady pace. Why are they even waiting? It’s so slow that it shouldn’t even be hard to strike the killing blow.

The floor behind it is dark with its simulated blood. It’s injured. That’s when she sees Adora and Kyle. Kyle is hopping along on one foot, one arm draped across Adora’s shoulders. Adora is holding onto him by his waist with one arm, following in the direction of the bug. She periodically activates the stun gun that she’s holding in her other hand. The bug screeches at the sound, twisting and turning in distress, but appears unable to move at a faster pace.

Of course it’s  _ Kyle  _ who gets seriously injured during training. So that’s why they’re not just doing the finishing blow. They’re probably running low on ammo. Their best bet would be to corner it and then attack it from all sides.

But Catra has a better idea, Catra is never low on ammo. Catra has claws.

She climbs up on the handrail, perching on all fours, her tail swishing up to keep her balance. The bug bot is finally getting close enough. So she jumps.

Catra lands on its back, sliding down the shell and down towards the head. It jerks upwards, pushing itself up from the floor, but it’s too late. Catra keeps her balances, and she shoves her claws into the soft spot in the middle of its eyes. The bug jerks violently, spasming as Catra puts it out of its misery. It finally relaxes and falls back down for the last time.

  
Catra stands up.

She expects to hear cheering, to hear the other cadets be glad that she did the hard work for them, or at least moan loudly that she didn’t come earlier and help them with the hard work. 

But instead there is nothing, only silence. 

She looks up. Lonnie and Rogelio are both up, standing behind their hiding place. She meets Lonnie’s hazel eyes.

Lonnie looks absolutely furious.

_ Uh oh. _

Lonnie closes the distance between them, fast, marching with firm steps towards Catra. Her brows furrowed, her arms tense. She’s still holding onto her stun gun.

“Catra!” She yells, “What the fuck do ya think you’re doing?”

“I finished the job for you!” Catra yells back. “Why didn’t you just kill it already?”

“If ya had been here on time like the  _ rest of us _ you’d know the mission was to capture it alive!”

_ Oh. _

Behind them, Catra can hear Adora and Kyle.

“Hey Catra,” Adora says. Catra tries to not read into the way she says it so flatly. She jumps down from the bot, landing right next to Lonnie. Lonnie has a look of defeat on her face. 

Catra doesn’t turn to look at Adora.

“Only to capture it alive? Wasn’t there some other objecti-”

“Shut up, Catra!” Lonnie yells and slams Catra into the side of the bot. “We worked real hard to keep this stupid thing alive.”

Catra doesn’t want to listen to this, she pushes Lonnie off her, making her stumble back. She glares at Catra, then lunges at her. They end up wrestling, and while Catra is good at fighting, Lonnie is quite strong. Catra doesn’t want to fight right now, this all went spectacularly wrong. She wants to put an end to the fight. When she finally gets Lonnie on her back, Catra raises her hand, claws and all, ready to strike.

Then, before Catra has the time to continue the fight, her world spins. 

The ground slams into her side, hard, and pushes the air out of her lungs. Disoriented, her vision still spinning, she tries to get up, but Adora is on top of her. Holding her body down. Face pressed down into the floor. The floor!

“Calm down both of you,” Adora says, while she turns to glare at Lonnie, but Catra can’t see that. Lonnie says nothing, but makes a face as she gets back up.

“I am calm!” Catra yells, trying to push Adora off her back. Adora holds her down. 

“We still have to finish this stupid mission,” Lonnie says.

Adora finally gets off Catra, and stands in between her and Lonnie. 

“Catra, I think it’s better if you just  _ leave _ ,” Adora says, her voice full of something that sounds like disappointment. 

Adora says more things after that, but Catra can’t pay attention to them anymore. Adora might as well have punched Catra straight in the face, because her words feels like daggers being pierced deep into her chest. Tears burn behind her eyes, threatening to well up and spill.

Catra curls her hands into fists of rage against the floor. Her sharp nails press into the soft skin of her palm, hard enough to hurt. She could draw blood if she wanted to. She wants to. She wants to show them, show all of them. She doesn’t know how to, but she will figure it a way. Somehow she will get her revenge. And then they will all be sorry.

They’ll all be very  _ fucking  _ sorry.

She gets up off the floor, quickly turning her back against them. And she leaves, careful not to turn around and meet their eyes. If they’re done with their little argument they’ll see her back as she leaves, but she hopes they don’t. She hears Adora’s voice shout a loud “Hey!”, but she doesn’t stop to see if it was directed at her. She doesn’t want to see Adora right now. She doesn’t want any of them to see her at all. 

Her ribs still hurt from where Adora slammed her into the floor.

She should hit the gym, but she won’t. She has to go where this feeling can leave her. Her feet guide her through the corridors much quicker than is wise, hoping that no one will grab her today. She can’t be blamed for what happens if someone tries to start a fight.

A large soldier pass her, much to close and her shoulder bump into Catra. Catra lowers herself into a fight stance, snarls loudly at her. Baring her sharp teeth. The large woman peers over her, honestly Catra shouldn’t be picking out fights with soldiers twice her size, but the shock on her face tells Catra she’s already won. 

“H-hey, calm down, I didn’t see you down there, don’t-,” she starts, holding up her arms in a defensive stance, but Catra doesn’t let her finish. She moves past her, glaring back over her shoulder before continuing. She knows she shouldn’t be running, but she doesn’t care anymore.

Her body knows where to go. Knows she has to get out. Fast. Sneak out and climb the rooftops until the pain in her chest dulls. The sky will train her tonight.

She doesn’t take her usual route, instead she climbs out through an open window panel. This route is much less safe, but there is no need to accommodate clumsy Adora or any of the other fumbly cadets today. This way up is a work out but only for someone like Catra. No other cadet can climb like this, like Catra can. At least this is something she can excel at. 

Not that they care.

This route means holding onto pipes and digging her claws deep into the exterior walls for grip. It’s  _ definitely  _ not allowed, but it feels good to leave marks on this ugly place. 

_ Something that will last longer than me. Some sort of sign that shows I was actually here. _

The wind is strong up here, pushing and tugging at her body. It pulls at her hair, swishing the curls around wildly. If she was in a good mood this might even feel good. Right now it just feels like her only escape.

As she grabs onto a drain pipe, it gives way, falling out from the exterior wall. Flinging itself and her out into the air. Without thinking, she acts purely on instinct, running along it on all fours, her tail helping her balance. Jumping off it before it starts to break off. Its pieces disappearing into the abyss of metal and concrete below her. She lands on the high roof as she hears the metal hit the side of the building on its way down. It takes a long time for it to finally hit the bottom levels.

“Fuck them,” she says softly, “Fuck this place.”

Her words are barely audible with the wind is howling around her. Drowning out the sound. But Catra doesn’t care, no one is around to hear her anyway. It’s just for her ears. Her is breath heavy and uneven. It feels good to run off some steam. Her legs are tired, her muscles feel a little stiff and there is a dim burn in her thighs. She used up a lot of energy running up here. But it’s good, it’s worth it. Makes her forget about the dull pain in her side.

It makes her feel stronger.

The Fright Zone is different up here. The plated monolithic buildings are bent into shapes that remind her of insects. The red and green lights from down below. The red sky large and unforgiving, full of smoke and clouds. 

Less harsh, more calm. It’s almost pretty if you think about it. 

Almost.

But most of all, no one will bother her up here. The red sky is her only companion on this rooftop. And the sky doesn’t give a shit if Catra has good discipline or not. It won’t judge. Somehow that thought calms her.

The other cadets won’t make the climb up here. They don’t have what it takes to do this. Not to this peak. They’ll settle for less spectacular views at the lower roof tops.

Up here it doesn’t matter what Catra is to any of them. Doesn’t matter if they like her, or if they hate her. Doesn’t matter what possible punishments await her. Catra is certain there will be more pain in the future. She can never catch a break in this joyless place. They call it the Fright Zone for a reason, Catra knows it all too well.

But Catra is a survivor.

She sits down, letting her scrawny legs dangle over the edge, her tail curling itself around her knee. Up here you can’t even see the ground when you look down. But there is so much else to experience. The howling wind, the low humming of exhaust pipes, ventilations and machinery. The wide, never ending sky. She sits still at the edge, until her breathing eventually evens out. Catra wonders how long it would take for her to hit the ground if she fell. It would take a long time before anyone realized she was missing.

_ Would Adora miss me? _

The thought comes purely on reflex, and she hates it. She waves it away, turns to look at the sky again. The sky still doesn’t give a shit. The only thing she can truly count on.

Catra waits for darkness to fall before she makes her way back down.


	2. mischief

When Catra climbs down it’s already way past their curfew, more than enough to put her in the shit zone as far as punishable offences go, but she could care less. It’s quiet in the dark of the corridors now, and she can see well in this darkness. She can probably sneak into her bunk without waking anyone up. She’s done it before and made it. Most of the time. 

The unrelenting hum of machinery is louder than usual, it should be easy today. 

The sadness has subsided, but she is still angry. It burns in her chest, reminds her that she doesn’t matter in this place. This place that won’t think twice about replacing her. Only the strong will survive down here.

The air felt better up on the roof than it does down here in their communal sleeping barracks, even though she doubts there is any truly  _ good  _ air at all in the Fright Zone. All those fumes will probably kill them if they manage to not die in battle first. 

It was cold during the day, but now it’s so  _ warm _ . Someone must’ve cranked up the heaters after flushing out all that air. Rogelio most likely, being cold-blooded and all.

_ Shadow Weaver is gonna hate that _ , Catra thinks with a chuckle.

But running across the tops of the rusty buildings earlier felt good, like she had some sense of freedom here. For a moment there could be escape from pain. Even if it is all fake. 

At least she could feel good about being a skilled climber. That’s actually useful as a soldier.

The lights are out in the barracks, but she knows the room well enough to navigate it with ease, and she sees well enough in the pitch black room. Unlike Adora and Kyle, who will fumble as soon as the lights are even just slightly dim. Her bunk is still made according to the Horde standard from their mandatory morning cleaning duties, with the grey sheet tucked in tight, pushed in under the mattress and at just the right angles. For once she got it perfectly even. 

Below it is Adora’s shape on the bottom bunk, facing away from her. She seems so small, all curled up, and yet there is so much of her. Like,  _ so much _ , all the time. All day, every day. That stupid ponytail, her stupid grin. Too much of everything. Too much to hold. Too much to control.  _ That hairstyle is practically asking to be pulled! _

After what Adora did earlier Catra wants to put her in her place. For the humiliation she made Catra endure. A dangerous move to pull on Adora, who is physically stronger.

Catra eyes her perfectly made bed again. Shadow Weaver has not seen it yet, she doesn’t know that Catra managed to do it right this time. What a shame.

But then, Catra has an idea.

“Hey Adora,” she whispers. Her voice is silky smooth, a sharp sound in the silence of the barracks: The only other sound here is the ever present churn of machinery that lull the cadets to sleep every night. 

Catra knows Adora can hear her. Adora is awake. Catra doesn’t know exactly how she knows this, but she does, all those nights in close vicinity have given her some knowledge of how to read the blonde soldier. Adora’s breathing is not following the sluggish rhythm of sleep, and her body looks tense. Her shoulders are sharp, not relaxed. Catra crawls onto the bed on her elbows and knees, carefully moving in the limited space. Nudging Adora and pushing at her hip. Poking Adora with her own sharp nails so she knows she will pay attention. 

It probably hurts a little.   
“Move, Adora.”

_ Make room for me. _

“Not tonight, Catra. Sleep in your own bunk,” Adora says with a groan. Her creaky voice is raspy from sleep. She pulls the grey blanket closer to her body, turns over onto her side. Pulling them tight around her body and up to her face. But the blanket won’t protect her. Not here. Not from Catra. 

“No, Adora,” Catra responds. Even to her own ears, she knows she sounds strange, she’s not used to talking to Adora like this. 

“Shadow Weaver hasn’t seen it yet. I’m gonna sleep in your bunk tonight.”

“Catra,” Adora says, her voice like a warning.

Catra doesn’t like warnings. She doesn’t like to listen. That’s Adora’s thing, being patient, playing the long game. Doing what you’re supposed to like a good cadet.

But alas, Catra was never a good cadet. If the rules don’t help her, she will have to bend them.

Catra pushes at Adora, shoving her over to the side of the bunk.

“You’re gonna get us in trouble,” Adora says, but her voice sounds softer now, neither threatening nor angry. It spurs Catra on, she  _ desperately  _ wants to get Adora into trouble. Wants Adora to taste the same pain that she herself has to endure. She climbs over Adora’s body, straddles her, pushing her down so that she can’t move. 

“Let me sleep in your bunk,” Catra says. Her voice louder now, probably too loud. Her hands pull down the blanket, exposing Adora to the cold air. She’s in her Horde issue top and shorts. Her breath is not slow anymore. Her rib cage expanding, moving a little faster than before. Catra can see the hints of Adora’s nipples through the material of her clothes.

_ Why am I doing this? Why does it feel so good to push her around? _

Adora’s hands grab onto Catra’s thighs. Short nailed fingers curling and pressing into Catra’s leggings. Her fingers on the slit of the garment. Her thumb feels warm against Catra’s skin. Adora’s grip is not painful but very _firm._ Like a reminder of just how strong she is. The air around them feels magnetic, like all the energy in the room is on the surface of their skin. Pooling in the places where their bodies are touching. Where they are holding onto each other.

_ What are we doing? _

“You’re gonna wake everyone up.”

“Not if you keep quiet.”

Catra’s finger fall over Adora’s lip. Adora’s lip feels dry and cold to the touch. 

They’re definitely going to wake someone up. Or all of them. But Catra doesn’t care.

Even in the dark Catra knows a challenge when she sees it.

Adora is not one to be outdone though. Adora’s hands move up from Catra’s thighs to her waist, and before Catra has the time to react, Adora has reversed their positions and she presses Catra into the bed as the metal frame creaks under the sudden movement. Catra is on her back, with Adora’s arm pressed against her throat. Adora’s big grin feels blinding in the dim light. Adora’s blue eyes look gray. 

Adora’s hip pressed into her hip, with Catra’s legs on either side of her. Adora is pressing Catra down with her whole body weight into the thin mattress.  _ Hard. _ Catra can feel the hard plate underneath it against her back and hip. There is no turning back now.

“I win.” There’s something breathy to Adora’s voice. The way she whispers. That loose strand of hair that has come undone from that stilly hair poof on the top of her head. The same one that always comes loose. Adora is so close, she smells like the communal soap they all use. 

Adora’s skin feels like electricity against Catra’s throat.  _ This is dangerous. _

_ Why does this feel so good though? _

“Fight me, Adora.” The words slip out Catra like it’s the most natural thing in the world. So natural. Like there’s a subconscious part of her mind that she has no control over that has been waiting for this. That wants nothing more than to banter with Adora, to tease her until she snaps and fights back, until their bodies do the talking. It’s all on automatic. She won’t stop until Adora is on top of her. Something in Catra likes Adora this way, wants her to do this to her. 

Wrestling with Adora in the dark.

Catra wishes she didn’t like this though. But the way Adora is pressing herself against  _ that place _ in between her legs, she can’t help it.

Adora’s eyebrows rise at Catra’s response.

“You’re on your back,” Adora whispers. She stares down at her own arm pressed into Catra’s neck, then back at Catra’s eyes. ”I have you in a chokehold.” She applies more pressure to Catra’s throat, but it doesn’t hurt. Adora is always gentle with Catra. “I have already won.”

That stirs something in Catra. Something that doesn’t know better. Something that knows every situation has a flipside, and that she’s good at flipping the odds. Especially with Adora. Even in the position they are in, Catra knows. Catra knows she can get in deeper under Adora’s skin. 

She wants to stay there.

Catra’s tail slide up Adora’s ankle and curl loosely around it. Her claws trace the Horde insignia on the back of Adora’s top. She feels the skin on Adora’s arm turn bumpy against her neck. Goosebumps,  _ perfect _ . 

It feels so good to tease Adora. She wants more of this. She wants to pull everyone single one of those reactions out of her.

“You sure about that?” Catra whispers, her voice so low that she’s not sure Adora can even hear her, but Adora’s eyes narrows.

Adora is strong, so strong, but Catra is smarter. The mind is mightier than any muscle.

She grabs Adora’s shirt, her long nails tearing into the thin fabric. The fabric rips so easily under her sharp claws. She’s not even applying any force, careful not to scratch Adora. Adora gasps, her eyes go wide. Catra pulls at the garment, pulling it up, exposing the skin on Adora’s lower back. Slowly.

Adora doesn’t say a word. Her breath uneven, her eyes fixated on Catra’s. The sound of Adora’s breath is delicious. Catra’s claws poking at the delicate skin of Adora’s back, trying to get more sounds out of Adora. 

Catra is in control. Finally.

Catra won’t lose this opportunity to  _ stay  _ in control.    
_ To win. _

Even if it’s just over her friend Adora.

“You sure about that?” Catra says again, making sure Adora can hear her this time.

“What are you doing?” Adora whispers, her voice much higher than before, that high note she reaches when she’s stressed. 

But she’s not moving away from Catra. She’s still pinning her down. She could move away from her so easily if she wanted to.

Her breath feels warm against Catra’s cheek. Adora’s eyes are still wide. She lets out a sound that is close to a whimper. If she leaned forward they would bump their foreheads together.

Catra won’t let Adora escape just yet. She wants  _ more  _ first.

“What do  _ you _ think I’m doing?”

Catra honestly has no idea what she’s doing. Or what more is, she won’t think, that’s not important right now. But this delicious reaction from Adora means she can’t stop. It’s too late. Adora is still pressed into her, pressing her full body weight onto Catra’s body, and her hips. Catra’s legs are on either side of her. 

Catra shifts her weight just a little, but with their current position means she can’t move that far. She lifts her legs a little and press her thighs together, trapping Adora at the waist. Sliding her feet up along Adora’s naked legs.

Adora must not have realized before just how compromising of a position they are in, but the revelation hits her with full force now, her cheeks are flushed bright red. Catra’s eyes are hooded.

_ More. I want more. _

“Do you  _ really  _ want me to stop?”

She wraps her legs fully around Adora now, carefully holding onto her so that she can’t move. Can’t leave. She raises her arm, and puts a hand on Adora’s cheek. Adora leans into it and closes her eyes. The movement feels so soft that Catra is thrown off guard. She doesn’t move, but her hand freezes against the soft skin of Adora’s cheek. Her nails are just resting against the vulnerable pinkish skin. Any pressure and she could easily hurt Adora. 

_ Vulnerability has no place in the Horde,  _ she hears Octavia’s voice in her mind.  _ Weakness is your worst enemy. _

But then, Adora opens her eyes again, snapping Catra back, and there is something in them that Catra can’t place. 

_ Does she like it? _

“Do you want me to stop, Adora?” Catra repeats the question again, but more clearly this time, and she’s softer. She realizes. Adora looks like someone just hurt her, her face is still bright red, but she looks like she’s in pain. Adora is not applying any pressure with her arm, now it just lays limp against Catra’s throat. She’s supporting herself with her free hand against the bed. Now, Catra knows that this is the time. She grabs Adora’s arm, sinks her nails into the naked skin, and Adora yelps. Catra pushes her up. It takes very little force to reverse their positions again.

Adora on her back, her expression blank. Catra leans down, her mouth so close to Adora’s ear. If she wanted to she could bite her, could draw blood. But instead she whispers.

“I win.”

Catra sits back, looking down at Adora. It’s such a small victory.

Adora looks back up at Catra, meeting her gaze, her blonde hair wild and her cheeks still bright red. She opens her mouth as if to protest, but then stops. She eyes Catra up and down, then sighs. Rubbing her face with her hands.

“Okay,” she finally says softly.

“What?” Catra’s eyes are wide, but she doesn’t move. Still sitting on top of Adora. Adora leans over to the side of the bed, where the blanket is just barely clinging to the edge of the bunk. She pulls the blanket with some effort off the floor and lifts it up.

“I have to be up early, just get in,” Adora says.

Catra has won, and now she reluctantly moves, and attempting to climb in next to Adora. 

“Wait, you’re not going to change out of your uniform?”

Catra groans.

“Fine.”

Why Adora wants her out of her uniform on a cold night is beyond her. It’s not like they don’t sleep in their uniforms when the barracks are cold. Sleeping in underwear is usually reserved for the summer.

The air between them is completely different now, the tension from before has completely vanished. Instead, it is replaced with their regular familiarity. Adora is even fixing her ponytail as Catra changes out of her uniform. Catra has her back towards Adora, so she doesn’t have to meet Adora’s eye. So she doesn’t know if Adora is looking at her, but it doesn’t matter. Adora has seen her many times before, in worse states of undress. Why should it be any different now?

Catra doesn’t let her mind dwell on it.

She doesn’t fold her red Horde uniform, just throws the pieces on top of her bunk. Over the bed that she has made,  _ according to Horde standards. _ It feels good, somehow. A small rebellious messy thing over the obligatory unescapable neatness.

She turns, Adora has her eyes closed, but has lifted the blanket as an invitation to Catra to join her. And so Catra does, slides in next to her. Her face next to Adora’s. It feels more intimate now that Adora has given her expressed approval for Catra to be there. 

“If you’re gonna stay here tonight you should sleep, okay?” Adora says, without opening her eyes. As if she knows that Catra is watching her.

“Okay,” Catra answers, preoccupied with how warm it is next to Adora. How her legs feel against her own. Without thinking, her tail slides up Adora’s thigh, which makes Adora open her eyes again. The blue eyes narrow at Catra.

“I mean it, no more wrestling.”

“ _ Tsk _ , sore loser,” Catra shoots back.

Adora doesn’t answer, but she rolls over onto her back, the blanket sliding down and exposing her stomach again. Without thinking, Catra extends her arm over her, letting her hand rest against the naked skin of Adora’s stomach. Adora doesn’t stop her, just grabs the blanket and pulls it over the both of them before closing her eyes. The vulnerable skin feels soft against the palm of Catra’s hand. Catra’s tail curling loosely around Adora’s ankle. Adora’s breath is so slow now compared to before, her stomach rising and falling in sync with her breath. Like the ocean. Catra’s heterochromatic eyes follow the slow movement.

She would never admit this out loud, but this feels nice, although nice and frustrating at the same time. Something itches in her, something that prefered the messy wrestling from before. Being on top of Adora, being under Adora. Feeling Adora’s hungry gaze on her, pushing Adora’s buttons. But having permission to touch Adora softly like this feels forbidden. Like there is a Horde rule somewhere that Catra doesn’t know of that makes this strictly off limits.

Slowly, she lets her hand caress Adora gently. A soft sound escapes Adora.

Vulnerability is not encouraged in the Horde, friendship only tolerated if it makes you better soldiers. If it pushes you to be better, and only better in ways that are useful to the Horde. So far Shadow Weaver has tolerated Adora’s fondness of Catra. She wants more of that fondness, whatever  _ that  _ is. The hungry voice inside of her begs her,  _ more, _ but Catra doesn’t know how.

Eventually sleep takes her too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's part 2! The third bit is going to take a little longer, but I hope you enjoyed it so far. I have several different ideas for the next bit so lemme know in the comments what you would like to see!
> 
> Looking at the screenshots I don’t even think they have mattresses in the shared sleeping barracks in the show (force captain rooms look a bit different though), but I decided to expand on it a bit.

**Author's Note:**

> Adora’s (and Catra’s) inability to separate sexual tension and flirting with wanting to fight both physically and verbally is inspired by myself before I came out. 
> 
> Part 2 is almost done, hoping I can finish up the editing in the next couple of days.
> 
> Intro is paraphrased from G-Idle’s song Lion.


End file.
